


Slow Down

by YlvaUllsdotter



Series: Experimental [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 18+, Asexual Character, BDSM, Bondage, Cane, Caning, Corporal Punishment, Cuffs, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean x Reader, Experimental, F/M, Fanfiction, Flogging, Impact Play, NSFW, One-Shot, Paddle, Paddling, Restraints, Riding Crop, SPN - Freeform, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Series, Smut adjacent, Sub!Dean, Supernatural - Freeform, asexual!Reader, bottom!Dean, domme!Reader, flogger, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 07:43:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15529458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YlvaUllsdotter/pseuds/YlvaUllsdotter
Summary: After last time, Dean becomes almost obsessed with the new things you’ve introduced him to, to the point where you feel that maybe it’s time to slow down a little. When you bring it up with Dean, his cocky attitude makes you want to take him down a peg or two.





	Slow Down

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Soy’s ([@hornsbeforehalos](https://hornsbeforehalos.tumblr.com/)) Evil Inside 666 Follower Challenge. Prompt was ”You created this monster, so now you get to deal with it.” It’s a continuation of Dean’s exploration of anal play in the [Experimental](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1073715) series, but can be read as a stand-alone one-shot. It’s smut-adjacent. If BDSM impact play triggers you, don’t read. I apologize for nothing.

After Dean’s first experience with the anal plug, he became insatiable. Anywhere you turned, he was there, begging you for more. At first, you were happy to oblige, having gone several years without anyone to play with, but after a while, you began to worry about his sanity.

It had been a week now, of stolen moments in quiet corners of the Bunker, away from Sam’s prying eyes, and you were starting to feel exhausted. Dodging Dean, you found the younger Winchester in the kitchen, his nose in a dusty old book while he ate his breakfast cereal.

“Sam, I’m so glad I found you,” you said quietly, poking your head around the door, keeping an eye out for Dean.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s up?” Sam slipped a post-it note between the pages of the book as a bookmark and set it down on the table, looking at you with a relaxed expression.

“I need a favor,” you told him, your eyes darting between his face and the doorway.

“Ok?” Sam waited for you to go on.

“Do you think you could find something to do outside the Bunker for the weekend?” You cocked your head and gave him your best puppy eyes.

“I...guess? Why?” Sam’s tone was curious and his hazel eyes were trained on your face.

“Oh, well, I have a surprise planned for Dean and, uhm, it’d just be better for everyone if you weren’t here for that. Mostly for you,” you explained, grinning suggestively and winking at him.

“Oh. Oh! Ew!” He grimaced and shuddered exaggeratedly. “Yeah, I’ll just...not be here,” he agreed, picking up his book and taking his empty bowl to the sink. He smiled at you as he was heading out. “About time, by the way. He’s been crushing on you since the day we met you,” he added and was out the door before you had time to react to his statement.

You moved slowly through the kitchen, fixing yourself some cereal, deep in thought over the bombshell Sam had dropped as he left. You had honestly had no idea about Dean’s feelings, which was unsurprising really since you were terrible at catching social cues like that. Knowing about it explained a lot though. Like why Dean just would not leave you alone ever since you had started your little experiment.

As you were putting your dishes away, Dean shuffled into the kitchen in only the dead guy robe and boxers, his hair adorably on end. His face lit up into a bright smile as soon as he saw you.

“‘Mornin’, Y/N,” he greeted you while looking around the kitchen. “Where’s Sam?”

“He had to take off. Said he’d be gone all weekend,” you replied, watching Dean’s face. Sure enough, his eyes lit up with the playful sparkle you had learned to recognize.

“Oh really? All weekend? Hmm,” Dean drawled and smirked at you.

You leaned your hip against the counter and arranged your face into a disapproving expression.

“Dean, you’re starting to worry me. You are moving way too quickly with all this,” you told him, your tone concerned.

Dean shrugged, his smirk still firmly in place. “It’s all your fault, y’know.  **You created this monster, so now you get to deal with it,** ” he responded, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

You made an exasperated noise and shook your head at him. “Fine, then I’ll deal with it. I want you in the dungeon in ten minutes,” you told him, noting the shiver that went through him at the tone of your voice. You watched him swallow hard and nod eagerly before you left the room.

As you brought your items to the dungeon and prepared for Dean, you again considered what Sam had said earlier. You had to figure out a way to deal with that issue as well, somehow. Your musing was interrupted by Dean entering the storeroom, still in his robe and boxers and nothing else. His expression said that he clearly expected more of what he had been getting all week. Turning slightly away from him to hide your smirk, you busied yourself with the metal strongbox also sitting on the table.

Dean stopped just outside the devil’s trap and waited for you to tell him what to do. That was one thing you had noticed - he really enjoyed it when you took charge. Which was fine with you, you preferred to be the one in control anyway. 

Moving aside, you let him see the toys arranged in a neat line on the table - a selection of anal plugs, a magic wand vibrator, a slim silicone dildo, and the strap-on harness fitted with a slightly larger dildo, as well as the bottle of lube. Dean’s eyes glazed over with lust as he looked at the items, lingering on the strap-on the longest. It was the one thing you had yet to progress to and clearly he expected you to go there now.

He started a little when your voice broke the silence, even though you kept your tone soft. “Strip, Dean, and come here,” you told him, turning to face him completely. You had taken the time to change into the outfit Dean liked best - skin-tight black leather pants, a matching corset that left your shoulders and arms bare, and high-heeled lace-up boots that came to your knees - and he ran his eyes over your body appreciatively. You had to admit you quite liked it yourself, the way the leather hugged your curves, emphasizing in all the right places.. 

Dean’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips as he shrugged out of the robe. The boxers followed quickly, leaving him completely naked as he approached you, a hopeful glint in his green eyes. When he was less than an arm’s length away from you, you put your hand on his chest to stop him. You tapped two fingers on the table top and nodded your head towards the toys.

“Is this what you want, Dean?” You kept your tone soft and watched as his eyes flicked from you back to the toys. He bit his bottom lip and nodded.

“Use your words, Dean. Tell me what you want,” you prompted him.

“Yes, this is what I want, Y/N. I want you to use all of these things on me. Please,” his voice was an octave lower than usual, and his pupils were dilated when he turned his gaze on you again.

You stepped around him and went to the center of the devil’s trap, where you had attached a pair of the spelled iron manacles to the chain hanging from the ceiling. Dean turned, his eyes following you as you moved. You tapped the manacles, setting them swinging softly. “What about these, Dean? You want me to lock you in these? Make you helpless and vulnerable?” Your voice had taken on a sultry quality and you saw his body react just as you had expected.

Dean had to clear his throat before he got the words out. “Yes, please, Y/N.”

“Come here then,” you beckoned, and in two long strides, he was in front of you. His excitement was extremely obvious in his short shallow breaths and hard cock. There was perhaps a foot of space between the two of you and in your heels, you were almost as tall as he was, which made it easier for you to keep eye contact as you ran your hands from his shoulders, down his chest to his hips. The pink tip of his tongue slipped out again to wet his suddenly dry lips, but his green eyes were locked to yours as your hands circled his wrists, raising his arms up.

The click as the manacles closed around his wrists was loud in the otherwise silent room and Dean again swallowed hard. Sliding your hands over his skin, you moved behind him, where you prodded his legs with your boot until he had spread them wide enough to suit you. When your hands caressed his ass cheeks, he let out a small moan that was barely more than a sigh. You squeezed his pert little ass, spreading his cheeks to let you brush your fingertips over his puckered hole. 

“This is what you want, isn’t it, Dean? You want me to fill your ass up?” You kept your voice soft as you prompted him.

“Yes, please, Y/N. Please fill me up,” Dean groaned, arching his back to press into your touch.

Stepping away from him, you spoke a single word. “No.”

Dean turned to look at you in surprise. “Wh-what?”

Moving back to the table, while he turned around to face you, you started picking up the toys, one at a time. You would hold each one up for him to see, then place it into the strong box. When they were all in the box, you closed it and locked it with a sturdy steel padlock, the key to which was already on your keychain. There would be no getting into the box without destroying it in the process.

“Y/N, what are you- what’s going on?” Dean asked, confused.

“What does it look like, Dean?” You responded, shoving the locked metal box to the far end of the table. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. I’m ‘dealing with it’, as you put it earlier. No more toys until I allow it.”

Dean frowned as he looked between you and the box, then up at the manacles holding him in place. 

“Oh, I’m still gonna play, just not with the things you want”, you clarified, lifting a rectangular wooden box from the chair that had been pushed under the table, out of sight. Opening the box, you revealed a set of impact play implements - a flogger, a slim paddle, a leather riding crop, and a quarter-inch rattan cane - and gave Dean a moment to absorb the sight.

“Those-” Dean had to stop to clear his throat, “those look like they hurt.”

“They do. You’ve engaged in undesirable behavior, and I am going to use these to correct that,” you explained. You picked up the paddle - a foot long, three inches wide, and half an inch thick, holes drilled along the entire length - and ran your hand over the smooth wood. “Punishments aren’t supposed to be enjoyable, Dean.” You watched him closely as he absorbed what you had just said. At the first glimmer of discomfort, you stepped in close to him and placed your free hand on his cheek.

“Do you trust me, Dean?”

His eyes flitted from the contents of the box to your face, searching for reassurance. Finding it, he nodded in response to your question. 

“I won’t do anything to you that I don’t think you can handle,” you continued, your eyes on his. He pressed his face into the touch of your hand and nodded again. You stroked your thumb over his cheekbone and gave him a brief reassuring smile, before moving away from him. Going around behind him, you brushed your fingers briefly over his ass, causing him to shiver. You replaced your fingers with the paddle, caressing Dean’s ass with the smooth wood until he relaxed into your touch.

Starting with little taps of the paddle to his butt, you carefully studied his body language. Initially, he had tensed, but as he realized the taps did not in fact hurt, he relaxed. You kept it up, and soon enough his relaxed stance began to tense slightly and he squirmed under the spreading heat where the paddle was painting his ass a nice bright pink. 

Dean’s breaths sped up as he worked to control the pain, which was still only slight, and you admired the way his muscles rippled under the freckled skin. Letting the paddle drop to your side, you stroked a hand soothingly over the heated area. 

“You’re being very good, Dean, but remember that this is a punishment. It’s not supposed to be enjoyable.” You gave his ass a tap and walked around in front of him so you could look him in the eyes. “Now, Dean, tell me, why am I punishing you?”

“Because I was going too fast,” he responded, his voice more raspy than usual. 

You nodded at him. “That’s right. And from how you reacted just now when I touched your ass, I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet. I am going to give you five strokes with each of the items in the box, starting with this one,” you raised the paddle slightly, “and you are going to count them out loud. Do you understand?”

Dean nodded, then cleared his throat before speaking. “Yes, I understand, Y/N.”

“Good boy. If you lose count, I will start over,” you added, before moving back behind him. His body language told you he was bracing for the pain he anticipated, although you mused to yourself that he likely had no idea what he was in for. 

The first stroke landed across the meatiest part of his ass with a loud  **_crack_ ** , bringing Dean up on his toes. He breathed hard through clenched teeth for a moment before he managed to grind out a choked “One”. 

You landed the next stroke on his right cheek, putting your whole body into the swing. Dean let out a hiss as he inhaled through his clenched teeth and had to take a couple of quick gulps of air before he could get out the “Two.”

The third stroke was to his left cheek, with quite as much force behind it as the previous two. “Three,” came as a shout almost at the same time, before he hung his head and breathed hard to work through the sting.

You aimed for the middle part again on the fourth stroke, watching the blossoming imprint of the paddle emerge on his skin. The “Four” was muffled as Dean had bitten down on his bicep to keep from screaming.

The last stroke you aimed just above the juncture where ass cheeks met thighs. The crack echoed off the walls of the dungeon but was still almost drowned out by Dean’s voice as he cried out. You had to prod him with the paddle before he managed to choke out the “Five”.

Putting the paddle down on the table, you picked up the flogger and went around Dean again to where he could see you and where you could see his face. It was something to behold too, his cheeks flushed, eyes slightly glazed, and those plump lips parted on shallow panting breaths as he processed the pain from the paddle.

“One down, three to go, Dean. Are you learning your lesson yet?” Your tone was quite harsh, by design, and you watched him flinch at hearing it. He nodded without looking at you, causing you to click your tongue at him in annoyance.

“We’ll see,” you said curtly in response and moved back behind him. Tucking the flogger under your arm, you raked your nails over his reddened ass, drawing a groan from him. Even now, he arched his back and pressed into your touch.

“You’re such a slut, Dean,” you teased him harshly, smacking his ass with your hand before taking hold of the flogger again and moving back a step. “Don’t forget to count,” you reminded him, speaking over his half-hearted protest.

The first stroke landed squarely across Dean’s left shoulder blade, leaving multiple welts in its wake from the many strands of soft black leather. The pain from the flogger was different from the paddle, and Dean struggled to adjust, almost forgetting to count it out. Just before you were about to tell him you were starting over, he managed to grunt out “One”. 

You aimed the second stroke to fall across his right shoulder blade, the strands slicing across his skin to leave a counterpoint in pain to the first. Dean’s shoulders hunched in reaction to the sting and he was out of breath for a moment. His torso expanded as he pulled air into his lungs, followed by a choked “Two”.

The flogger’s strands struck hard just below where the first stroke had landed, expanding the area of marked skin. Dean’s body flinched away from the stinging pain, swaying in the restraints. His legs almost buckled, but he steadied and managed to count out “Three”.

Appreciating symmetry, you let the flogger land on the left side to match the previous stroke, making Dean flinch the other way. His hands scrabbled for purchase on the chains that restrained him, gripping them for balance as his legs threatened to give out again. The “Four” was a breathy grunt as he tried to breathe hard through the pain.

The fifth, and last, stroke, you landed across both shoulders, just above the shoulder blades, enjoying the sight of the skin reddening around the slight welts left by the leather strands. Dean’s body jerked forward while his head was thrown back, his shoulders hunching inward. Knuckles white on the chains, he nevertheless managed a muffled “Five” in between heavy breaths.

You dropped the flogger next to the paddle on the table and brought your hands up to run a fingertip lightly along the many welts crisscrossing Dean’s upper back. He was panting from trying to control the pain rather than letting it just happen, and he flinched every time your finger touched a specially sensitive spot. 

“Halfway through, Dean. You’re doing very well so far. I just have one question for you.” You moved in front of him so you could look him in the eyes. “Color?”

Dean blinked several times, almost too far gone to understand you. He had to clear his throat and lick his lips before he managed to get out his answer, his voice hoarse. “Green.”

“Good boy,” you praised him before going to pick up the leather riding crop. It was your favorite, a steel spring core covered in high-quality leather, and it had been with you since the beginning. You ran it through your fingers and tapped the slapper on your palm as you came around in front of Dean again.

Tucking the crop under your arm, as you had with the flogger, you moved in close enough that you could put your hands on his ass. Dean flinched, the flesh still sensitive from the paddling, and you smiled at him. Your nails raked over the reddened skin, causing Dean to flinch away, his crotch making contact with your thigh. The flaccid state of his cock told you clearly enough that Dean was certainly not a masochist, not that that would stop you. 

Your hands squeezed and kneaded his ass, spreading his cheeks to let your fingertips brush over his puckered muscle. Even in pain as he was, Dean still let out a sigh of pleasure at your touch and tried to arch into it. Shaking your head at his reaction, you stepped back.

“You still haven’t learned, have you, Dean?” You took hold of the crop and tapped the soft leather slapper on his cheek gently. “Well, we have time. I can do this all day. How about you?”

Ignoring his mutters, which made no sense anyway, you stood a little to the side and tapped the tip of the crop on Dean’s nipple. “This is going to hurt, Dean. A lot. I still expect you to count out loud,” you informed him.

It was not the soft slapper that landed across Dean’s nipple, but rather the very tip of the leather covered hard steel core. The sound it made was negligible, but the sting of it was felt all the more. Dean’s whole body hunched in on itself as much as possible considering the position he was in. He let out a grunt of pain and breathed hard through clenched teeth before he was able to grind out a shaky “One”. 

Moving to the other side, you repeated the stroke on the other nipple, getting much the same reaction. Dean’s eyes were clenched shut hard, the muscle in his jaw working as he ground his teeth together so hard you almost failed to catch the “Two” he muttered out.

Pausing, you cradled his face in your free hand and made him look into your eyes. 

“It’ll be easier if you just let the pain wash over you, Dean, don’t try to control it”, you advised him, not sure he could understand you.

Stepping back to the initial position, you repeated the stroke on that nipple, watching Dean’s knuckles turn white as he gripped the chain holding him up tightly. His eyes were glazed with pain, but he was still fighting it, and the “Three” was again ground out through teeth clenched so hard you were afraid he was going to break them.

You switched sides again, bringing the crop down on the other nipple for the second time. Dean fought against it, but a muffled cry of pain escaped his lips through the clenched teeth. You had to wait several moments before you finally heard the “Four” fall from his dry lips.

Adjusting your position, you brought the crop down across Dean’s chest for the last stroke, and there was no muffling the cry that time. He reluctantly let it out, his whole body tense as a drawn bowstring as he shouted “Five!” like his life depended on it.

You tucked the crop under your arm again to have both hands free and moved closer to him. Your palms were warm from holding the various toys, and you ran them soothingly over his nipples, tracing the welts left by the crop. When you let one hand slide along his flushed skin to cup his cheek, he pressed against your touch almost desperately.

“Please, Y/N, no more, please,” he rasped out, begging for relief. 

Pausing and moving in close to him, stroking his face gently, you made eye-contact. “Color?” Almost immediately, he whispered, “Green,” assuring you that he was all right to continue.

Stepping back, you hummed disapprovingly. “Let’s see,” you stated, before moving behind him and caressing his ass. One finger traced along his crack, massaging his prostate lightly from the outside. You could tell he fought it, but in the end, he arched into your touch, a slight moan escaping his lips.

“You still haven’t learned, Dean,” you admonished him and his moan of pleasure turned to one that almost rang of despair. It impressed you however that even though he clearly was less than enthusiastic about further punishment, he did not in fact voice any objection. 

“I think though, that I’ll make you a little more comfortable,” you continued, seeing as he could barely stand and was held up mainly by the iron manacles around his wrists. The last thing you wanted was to cause him any permanent damage after all. Setting the crop down on the table, you unlocked the cuffs and helped him lie down on his back on the floor. His expression and body language told you he found the cool concrete soothing on the hot skin of his back and ass.

He was soft and pliant under your touch as you prodded him into the position you wanted - flat on his back with his arms at his sides not touching his torso, and his legs slightly spread. As you moved around him, getting him positioned, he watched you with a soft expression that made you a bit uncomfortable.

When you moved away to get the cane from the table, you took a moment to compose yourself while you were faced away from him. You would have to deal with that problem later. As you turned back to Dean, you tapped the cane lightly on your palm while making eye contact.

“Last one, Dean. I’m going to give you a feel for the cane before I give you your five strokes. I’ll let you know when I’m about to start,” you informed him, keeping your tone as neutral as you could manage.

You moved the chair over to Dean, positioning it over his left knee. Sitting there, you would be able to reach all of the relevant parts of him with the cane. His green eyes followed you as you sat down and looked him over, but you ignored it.

Starting on his left side, you moved the cane in light taps from his hip to his ribs, and back, keeping it up until the area began to color when you switched to his right side. It was abundantly clear that Dean found the light taps more ticklish than painful, but the purpose of this exercise was only to let him feel the cane against his skin, for now.

Moving the chair back a couple of inches, you started on his inner thighs, keeping the taps light and quick, going from his knee to his groin and back. When both of his thighs had the same lovely pink color, you increased the force of the taps enough for him to feel a slight sting with each one.

He bit his bottom lip while still watching you, so far able to easily control the sting of the cane. Even, apparently, enjoying himself judging by the interested twitching of his cock. Making eye contact with him, you seamlessly moved from his thigh, the next tap landing at the base, then traveling along his limp length. His eyes never strayed from yours, even as his jaw clenched hard at the sensation. You kept up the taps to his cock until he tried to flinch away, the pain becoming too much.

You stopped the cane’s movements, letting it rest pointedly on his shaft. “I’m going to start now, Dean. Remember to count,” you informed him, waiting for his nod before you turned your attention to the work at hand.

The first stroke fell on the upper part of his right inner thigh, leaving a bright pink welt. Dean’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, and he threw his head back against the concrete floor, holding his breath for so long you thought he might pass out. Finally, he expelled the breath in a loud huffed “One”.

Striking just below the first area, the cane painted another welt on his flushed skin. Dean tried so hard to fight it, to control the pain, but a choked whimper escaped his throat before he was able to form the “Two”.

Switching to the left thigh, you attempted, somewhat successfully, to put a symmetrical mark on that side. Dean writhed beneath you as he tried to fight the pain that blossomed in the wake of the stroke, his whimpers becoming louder. At the last moment, he managed to sob out a “Three”, letting you go on without starting over.

Putting a second welt on the left thigh, you watched Dean squirm, tears leaking out from under his clenched eyelids and trickling down his temples to wet his hair. Panting, he managed to rasp out “Four”.

The last stroke landed with some force across Dean’s limp cock, releasing a hoarse cry of pain from between his dry lips. Sobbing, he whispered “Five”, eyes closed as he fought through the pain.

You stood up and put the cane with the other items on the table before pushing the chair out of the way. Crouching next to Dean, you cradled his face with your hands gently, wiping the tears away with your thumbs. 

“It’s over, Dean. You were so good for me.” You kept your voice soft and soothing, pulling him up into your arms. He clung to you with the desperation of a drowning man, and you had to forcibly push the thoughts of his feelings for you to the back of your mind. You let him cling for as long as he needed it until he pulled back to look up at you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I should have listened to you,” he whispered, his voice still hoarse.

“Yes, you should have,” you agreed, but the otherwise harsh words were softened by the smile you gave him. “You’ll know better from now on, won’t you?”

“Yes, definitely,” he replied, nodding eagerly.

“That’s good then. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” you prodded him to get up, supporting him as you took him to the shower room.

Once Dean was tucked away in his room, resting with his favorite music, you made your way to the library. He had wanted you to stay with him, but you had made an excuse and left him alone. You needed time to think about how to handle this new complication of his feelings for you. 


End file.
